


just mary

by JuniperGrace



Category: Mary Poppins (Movies)
Genre: Gen, everyone has a thinking place, mary lets her hair down for once, pondering, where the lost things go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:28:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23764606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuniperGrace/pseuds/JuniperGrace
Summary: when you can't find mary poppins, simply look to the sky. || a quick little drabble about where mary goes when she needs to think.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	just mary

**Author's Note:**

> quarantine's got me returning to some old hobbies, so here's a really short thing about how mary can't let herself be anything other than the image she's very carefully constructed for herself idk (shrug)

If ever you find yourself unable to find Mary Poppins, you might look to the sky. You wouldn’t see her, of course, but you would get the sense that she’s out there. She belongs to the sky, after all, so why wouldn’t she return to it from time to time? ( And, in fact, you would be correct for believing as much. )

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––– 

She tries not to do it too often, but sometimes Mary Poppins escapes to the sky. Perched primly on a cloud, the world makes more sense and for a moment, she can hear her own thoughts. It’s eerily quiet –– with the exception of the occasional bird or gust of wind, but even they know to give Mary her space when she’s up here. She's more than earned her peace and they know that.

In the clouds, the weight of being practically perfect lifts entirely. In the clouds, she can be simply _Mary_. In the clouds, she lets her hair down – curls floating freely down her back – and allows herself to not sit so rigidly. She’s _just Mary_. She’s not practically perfect or anything near it – a momentary reprieve from the expectations she holds herself to.

When she was younger, while the world carried on below her, she would draw her knees to her chest and let the clouds soak up her tears and cast her sobs to the winds. Now, it’s rare for the clouds to soak up so much as a tear and the wind only hears as much as she’s willing to whisper to herself while she ponders.

Because while she’s up here, she’s simply Mary, but she can never fully stop being Mary _Poppins_.


End file.
